The Plottings of Lord Elrond
by Rebell
Summary: CoAuthored. Eventually the mischief of Elladan and Elrohir has got to rub off on SOMEONE. But when it rubs off on the wrong person, the world's turned upside down!
1. The Secret

The Plottings Of Lord Elrond 

**Coauthored by us! Lol! The Two Crazy Peoples!**

**AN: **As you all have probably figured out, this is a co-authored story. (I desperately hope you have all figured it out…:-) Credit goes to Alenor Peredhel, my excellentco-author, for the main story plot! We hope you enjoy the first chappy of The Plottings of Lord Elrond, what we are hoping will be a successful fic. Don't forget to drop us a review… and we do accept anonymous reviews… My goodness, I think I'm repeating myself too much. In that case, I would like to point out that neither Alenor, nor myself, own in any way the characters of LotR. And now, on with the fic!

Elrond, Elven Lord of Imladris, keeper of the great ring Vilya, and he who marched with Gil-Gilad and Elendil...Was currently hiding underneath his large, oaken desk. His companion, a rough, surly sort of fellow, looked on in amazement as Elrond jabbed his finger at various points on a large detailed map with obvious glee. "There! It would be a straight path through to Mirkwood if you tunneled there!"

A shake of the head followed these words. "No Lord Elrond, it'd be too dangerous to go through there. The rock is all wrong! One slight slip of the hammer or pick, and the whole of the Misty Mountains would come tumbling down on our heads! We cannot go straight through!" Elrond's companion shifted and winced as he felt his knees crack and his head bumped the underside of the desk. "Lord Elrond? Can we not conduct our business over a desk like normal folk?"

A thoughtful pause, then Elrond nodded and crawled out from under the richly polished desk. His companion followed, back creaking and feeling much relieved. The Lord of Imladris was beginning to worry him. In all his dealings with Lord Elrond, the elven-lord had been calm and regal. The visitor had never thought that one day he would be crouched under a desk with Elrond, talking in heated whispers. The visitor began to wonder about the elven-lord's sanity.

"Well why not bring down the Misty Mountains? Who needs them anyway? We can plant a giant forest where they used to be!" Elrond suggested, his eyebrows drawn down as if he were seriously considering the question.

"Lord…Lord Elrond!" the Dwarf stuttered, trying to edge to the doorway without being too obvious. "You cannot…."

"Mmmmm…Fine then! How about here? How about if… we travel north, and then begin tunneling through the mountains at an angle?'

The visitor rubbed his eyes and temples, feeling a rather large headache coming on. "I suppose so, although the tunnel would take almost twice as long to complete. If you are so determined to deliver the '_package_' to Mirkwood on time, I believe it would be better if we instead went ten leagues to the south and then tunneled straight through. I believe it would cut the entire transition time by about two weeks."

Elrond smiled and nodded. "Then it shall be so! You must start work at once!"

The visitor slowly began to draw the map toward him, keeping a wary eye on the happy elven-lord. He was not sure if he liked this new version of Elrond. It gave him the crawling creeps.

The door burst open then, swinging on its hinges to slam into the wall behind it with a resounding _bang_. A handsome, dark-haired Elf with laughing grey eyes rushed into the room, followed by a thoroughly unrecognizable creature. As if giving up the chase, the _unrecognizable _one collapsed into one of the chairs. Both unfortunates did not even notice the visitor, full attention fixed on the no-longer-smiling elf-lord, who was glaring at a dinner-plate-sized splat of mud on his precious map. There was positively steam coming out of his ears.

"Ada, I have had it! That brother of mine has taken it too far! I honestly feel that—" The unrecognizable creature, now identified as on of the twin sons of Elrond broke off, finally having noticed the visitor. His eyes grew big "Ada, what is—"

"Elrohir, _Elladan_ this is Frugar, son of Dugar Solidhammer. He is our guest, and I am sure he would like to be treated as such."

Elrohir rose and clasped hands with the dwarf, but before he could apologize, Elladan shoved him aside and tried to make amends of the abrupt entry, with a simple "If I had known you were here, I would never have barged in. However my brother is currently acting like a murdering maniac and this is the first place that I thought was safe."

Frugar stared at the mud-covered son of Elrond in some amazement, quite convinced that Elrond's family had gone insane. "Do not worry, milord, I have taken no offense." The dwarf then sat down and proceeded, with great amusement, to listen to Elrohir's latest complaint against Elladan's trouble making.

"—And then I tripped over a bit of rope and went into the mud! All the while, you understand, being chased by the bees! And he had the nerve to watch the whole thing from a tree, laughing his head off… You do realize Ada, that he took the precaution of inviting every elleth in Rivendell to watch?"

Elladan said nothing, but hopped on the desk and grinned rather proudly. "Thank you for the bee idea by the way. It could never have turned out as great if it hadn't been for you, dear brother."

Holding out a hand to stop Elrohir's abrupt rise, Elrond rubbed his temples. "Elrohir, I am rather busy at the moment. I will devise a punishment for your brother later, which will probably be cleaning every speck of dirt off of this precious map…." Elladan groaned. "… However, if you have taken any means to avenge yourself Elrohir, I promise you that you will be joining him. And now I must be getting back to Frugar, if I may?"

The elven-lord's son stood up with a muddy squelch, leaving behind a rather large stain on the chair. Elladan snickered as he hopped off the desk. "Yes, Ada," they replied simultaneously.

"Do you mind me asking why you need a dwarf, and what you might be planning?" Elrohir, attempted to redeem himself, and bowed hastily to the now-thoroughly-amused Frugar, producing another squelch. "I mean no offense to you or your kind master dwarf. I am simply curious…" The dwarf, for the second time in five minutes, found himself assuring a son of Lord Elrond that no offense had been taken. Both turned to Elrond then, Elrohir curious under all the mud, and Frugar, wondering just how this was all going to turn out. Rolling his eyes, deciding he had accomplished everything he could, Elladan left.

Elrond had gotten a dreamy, mischievous twinkle in his eyes, reminding Elrohir quite a lot of himself or his brother when thinking up something positively sneaky. He suddenly had the desire to run after Elladan and forgive h_i_s twin for the humiliation. The elven-lord smiled. "Tis nothing, Elrohir. You will find out in due time."

Elrohir nodded slightly relieved and left, bowing once more to the dwarf as he left. He intended to go and sit in a long bath, and then spend the rest of the day plotting against his brother after all he couldn't allow Elladan to have the upper hand for very long, it would ruin his reputation.

Frugar turned to Lord Elrond after the young elf had left. "If I may, Lord Elrond… Why not tell your son_s_ of your plans?"

"I will," the elven lord quickly assured the dwarf. "All in good time. However, I am not yet ready to divulge any information as yet at this point in time. I would like this birthday surprise to go off with as few people knowing about it as possible." Elrond's eyes became distant once more. "All in all, this will be the most memorable birthday present Thranduil has ever gotten!"

End of Chapter 1


	2. The Capture

**Disclaimer: **Neither the lovely Alenor, nor myself, own the characters, place, or settings. A secret plot is currently underway to get hold of them though… Cookies to anyone who can help!

**AN: **Ooops… Sorry everybody for taking so long. Send cookies to Alenor, who got me off my lazy bum with a multitude of emails! So here it is, all shiny and brand-new… I think it's safe to say the both of us are satisfied with the result…

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Elladan Elrondion crept stealthily through the forest, rough light brown tunic making him all but invisible as he flitted through the grove of pine trees that pressed in on either side of him. He made not a sound as he approached what had become known as the mysterious camp. Elrohir was nowhere in sight, having been elected to stay behind at the twin's own campsite. It had been rather unfairly decided that the younger twin would be too likely to give them away. Actually, Elladan had made that decision, much to the dismay of Elrohir who had gotten no chance to argue back before Elladan had left..

Elladan was ignorant of the thoughts of revenge running through his brother's mind as he closed the distance between himself and the secret camp. Frustration seethed just under his skin as he noticed a patrol making their daily and noisy rounds. Not again! Each time he had tried to get close; he had been forced to scramble away from a Dwarven patrol. This time there was no going back though, he was determined to get past.

He slid from tree to tree, keeping to the shadows whenever they presented themselves for his use, ever alert for signs of another approaching sentry. It seemed, that for once luck was on his side, as he soon found himself close enough that he could make out several voices, along with a great deal of banging. Confusion knitted his handsome brow, furrowing it in a deep groove. One of the voices sounded very much like his Ada, which in itself was both relieving and odd.

It was relieving in the sense that he had finally discovered where his Ada had disappeared to, as he been missing from Imladris the day after he and Elrohir had barged in upon the 'secret' meeting between the Elven lord and the dwarf. Many of the Rivendell occupants, simply believed that he had gone on an unexpected trip to Lothlorien, and would be back within a few weeks, besides Erestor and Glorfindel were adept enough to handle any matter that needed to addressed in his brief absence. Elladan and Elrohir had been grudgingly forced to accept the story as well, (though it had enough holes to use as a fishing net), mainly because neither of them could think of any other reason for their Ada's vanishing act.

Elladan's mind was drawn back to the present as he considered the big question: what _was_ Elrond doing in the foothills of the Misty Mountains? Elladan's brow drew down further as he realized that his father was conversing amiably with dwarves! What on Arda was going on here? Elbereth's stars!

Unfortunately for the poor Elf, he had quite forgotten to shift positions, as he had paused to ponder Elrond's sudden appearance. In light of his stupidity, a sentry had taken the time to sneak up behind him.

Elladan yelped in surprise as a pair of thick strong arms snaked about his waist and pulled.

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Elrohir made his way cautiously around the perimeter of the camp. It had only taken him several minutes after his brother's departure to realize that he could use the time given to him to pay his brother back for the humiliation suffered in Imladris, and he had immediately set to work. Now he was being even more graceful than usual, carefully avoiding all the trip wires that criss-crossed the ground under him.

'Twould be an awful experience, having to wait for his Elladan's return tangled in a net and coated in tree sap. Even worse, Elladan would no doubt go running off to Imladris or the nearest Elven sentry patrol, to spread the word of Elrohir's incompetence to set up a simple revenge.

Shuddering at the thought, he reached up to gently tug on a rope that would trigger a bucket of mud. Satisfied at last that all were complete and that there was nothing left to do, he sat on a log and waited, eagerly anticipating his brother's return.

Elladan, on the other hand, seemed to have different ideas. When half an hour had gone by, Elrohir began to fidget uneasily. It had taken him two hours to make the area a 'war camp' riddled with dangerous pitfalls and hangman's nets. He had been worried that his brother would return before he had finished. But as the minutes ticked by, and his elder twin was nowhere to be seen, Elrohir realized his fears had been for naught. But then, where was Elladan?!

Finally, he had decided, albeit unwillingly, that Elladan had most likely finally found a way into the secluded Dwarven camp and had lost track of time while he snuck around. He twisted the fabric of his deep blue tunic between his fingers as he settled back, forcing himself not panic. Besides, Elladan would have a laugh if he realized his twin had leapt to false conclusions, and that would sink Elrohir farther into the pit he was currently struggling to get out of.

The fabric was wrinkled beyond probable repair by the time Elrohir leaped to his feet, intent on going after his missing brother. Too much time had passed, and he refused to wait any longer, despite any consequences that his decision may have.

Before he managed to take a single step however, he heard footsteps approaching, the sounds muted by the last year's foliage and fallen pine needles littering the forest floor. Feeling foolish, Elrohir began to sit, already wondering which of the traps his brother would set off first. His rear hadn't even touched the log before a rough hand clapped over his mouth, and another took hold of the back of his tunic. With a muffled squeak, Elrohir was pulled backwards.

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Elladan looked up sulkily as the flap of the tent was flicked aside. He was sitting on the ground, hands bound uncomfortably behind his back with his feet awkwardly stretched out, tied as well. A dirty bit of cloth served as a gag, preventing him from even attempting to speak. And the taste the emitted from the foul thing was something not to be desired. His grey eyes widened as his younger twin was dumped unceremoniously near his feet. Elrohir was bound in the same manner as Elladan, although the younger was considerably more uncomfortable, seeing as he was laying flat on his back with his hands under him. The door closed, dropping the room into darkness but for the strips of light creeping in from under the canvas.

Elrohir writhed about and managed to lever himself into a sitting position. His dark hair was mussed, and his tunic was muddy. The dwarves that had dropped him inside the tent could be heard talking to the sentry just outside: "Fought like a demon, that one did. We dropped him in a mud puddle just to make the little rat shut up. Couldn't very well try to bite us with a mouthful of mud, now could he?" There was another round of laughter.

Despite their situation, Elladan snickered at that. His twin looked up at him with baleful eyes. Much to the younger twin's dismay, during his fight for freedom, his foot had triggered one of his traps. The mud had spilled out of the bucket, fortunately missing both himself and his attackers. However, the dwarves had decided that the newly-created mud puddle made too much of a tempting target. They had dunked him repeatedly until his mouth was too full of mud for him to breathe properly, therefore muting his struggles. "Mph!"

The elder was about to try and respond to what had undoubtedly been an attempt at an insult, when the tent flap was shoved aside once more. And much to the twins' surprise, they knew the person who entered.

"Mmph!" It was a double attempt at speech that ended in something unintelligible.

Elrond looked down at his sons with what could only be described as the famous cross between amusement and anger. "And what might my sons be doing all the way out here?"

Appraising them carefully, he chose to remove Elladan's gag so that the elder twin could answer.

Spitting out the foul taste, Elladan struggled not to writhe uncomfortably and look his father in the eye "We- we came out for a hunting trip, is all. If you could take an 'unexplained vacation' so could we! When we made camp earlier tonight, we heard voices, rough, dwarven ones. We wanted to know what it was, and Elrohir insisted that I go, seeing as I am much better at sneaking around than he is..." He went on, ignoring the indignant noises that issued from behind Elrohir's gag and the heated glare. "When I got close, I got snatched. And that is all I know. Why are _you _here, Ada?"

Elrond shook his head. "It is not time for you to know yet. Trust me my sons, you will learn soon."

"Well..." Elladan was nonplussed. "Then tell these infernal dwarves to set us loose, and we'll go home. You can tell us all about it later."

Their father shook his head once more, a secret smile hidden beneath a curtain of hair. "But Elladan, I cannot hold you to that. You will stay here until I feel the need to tell you. And you are wrong, _ion-nin_." He bent down and replaced the gag gently, and considerably looser, though no less efficient. . "Twas not the dwarves' fault... I was the one who asked them to capture you!"

The elven lord turned and left, humming gaily and paying no attention to the shocked splutters of his offspring.

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**AN: **Hey ya'll! Thanx to the reviewers of last chappy: **maneatingbananas, Fuzzy Buny, Aurehen, rivendellelve, **and **Nelarun. **We really appreciate your support guys!


	3. The Escape

**Disclaimer: **We do not own it... now shush, because that brings us down...

**AN: **My goodness, this one took kinda long to get up... I suppose you can blame both of us for that... but here it is, and it's nice and long too! Be happy!

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Elrohir grunted through his gag, trying to convey his deep unhappiness to Elladan. His tunic was ruined, his muscles were cramping from the long hours spent on the floor, the mud on his skin had long since dried, creating an itchy, crumbling second skin, and perhaps worst of all, his captors hadn't even let him spit out the mud in his mouth before gagging him!

Sending only a cursory glance toward Elrohir, so as to make sure the young elf wasn't choking, Elladan quickly returned his wistful gaze at the tent flap. Perhaps, if he wished it enough, their Ada would come in, untie them and announce that it had all been a silly joke-ha ha, and yes they could go home now.

The minutes continued stretched onward though, with out even the slightest hint of a rustle in the tent flap... The only sounds that his sharp elven ears could detect were distant voices, too faint to discern the words and the light pitter-patter of rain on the canvas roof. And of course, Elrohir's continuing muffled grunts of complaint.

Throughout the duration of those minutes the younger twin had persistantly continued to shuffle about, trying to get into a position that would allow blood flow back into his extremities. Much to Elladan's annoyance, this involved much stifled cursing and several rather loud thumps. He was trying to think of some way to get out of the dwarven camp and it was rather difficult with different versions of "Mmph… MUMPH!" going on in the corner.

Elrohir wriggled about, clothes chafing uncomfortably against the stubborn mud clinging to his skin. His mouth was full of the gritty stuff and it was all his willpower not to swallow it. His wrists were raw from the Elvish rope that the Dwarves had tied him up with, and his ankles weren't much better. _Elvish rope! Tied up with Elvish rope! I bloody well _hate _irony! _he fumed silently

For no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't manage to get the ropes quite loose enough, nor could he pull his feet through the loop created by his arms to get his bound hands in front of him. He managed only to get hoplessly tangled in the shreds of his sleeves.

Laying there, more uncomfortable than ever, he began to wonder if the strange muffled noises he heard from Elladan's direction were snickers.

They were. In fact, Elladan was down-right laughing. His shoulders shook and his eyes began to water, but he just couldn't help himself. He had spared a quick peek in his brother's direction, and what he had seen had driven all annoyance out of him. Elrohir's striking features were a mottled mix of red from exertion and a dusty brown from the mud.

He was lying on his side facing Elladan, and though the color of his shirt may once have been green, it was impossible now to tell . His feet were entangled in the tattered remnants of his sleeves, which left him in a very uncomfortable-looking lopsided O. His hair, which had undergone an extradorinary change of color had come free of the simple braided tail that he usually wore it in, and hung into his face. His grey eyes were closed, and he looked as if he was trying to compose himself.

Shoulders still heaving with an occasional chuckle, Elladan concentrated on his own bonds. Being the more level-headed of the two, he had remembered that there was a small knife concealed in his boot that the dwarves had missed when had they frisked him. Slowly and carefully, he maneuvered himself about, first so that he could grasp it, secondly, so it was in a position to cut, and finally, the cutting process, which brought about the more difficult task of leaving all fingers intact.

Not too much longer, with a sigh of relief, he felt the edge of the knife cut away the last of the fibers, and his bonds slumped from his wrists.. Turning, he smiled at his brother, who had finally opened his eyes. Deliberately making sure all his moves were being observed, he brought his hands in front of him, enjoying the look of surprise on Elrohir's face. He then proceeded to slowly and carefully untie the rope from about about his ankles, and finally reached for his own gag.

Finally comprehending what he had just seen, Elrohir began to to squirm madly but whether it was from happiness or fury, Elladan couldn't be sure. He took his time, rubbing his hands and letting the feeling come back to his feet. Then he stood and crossed over to Elrohir.

"Do you need some help little brother?"

Judging by the look of fury on on Elrohir's face, Elladan's believed his twin might have spat at him if the gag had been just a slight touch lower. He smiled smugly, which only served to further enrage his brother.

"Use what little brains you have, Elrohir… you have a knife as well, you know."

With that, he turned and stepped outside of the tent, intent on finding his Adar and getting to the bottom of all the madness.

He did not untie his brother.

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Elladan walked through camp, skirting the orangish glow of campfire and the occasional Dwarven sentry, slim shoulders still heaving every now and then as he thought of how furious Elrohir must be.

Preoccupied with such thoughts and therefore paying no attention to his surroundings, Elladan nearly walked right on top of a pair of Dwarves that he had neither seen nor heard coming. It seemed rather impossible to do so, as they were both talking loudly, and the elf lordling, unable to resist, paused to hear the rest of their conversation.

"—they're still tied up in there!"

"Yes, and they'll _never _get free of _my _knots!"

Elladan slipped silently away, leaving the pair behind. His soft boots made nary a sound as he ghosted through the maze of tents, until he stood at the very edge of the sea of tents.

He turned back to scan the camp, and marveled once more at the sheer size of it. There had to be more than eighty structures, maybe even a hundred. What on Arda could all those dwarves be doing? And more importantly, what did his Ada have to do with it?

While he pondered on this, he began to plot how he would best get back to where he and Elrohir had been held captive. It had taken him hours to free himself from his own bonds, and he supposed that Elrohir, being the somewhat incompetent Elf he was, would need help. His twin probably hadn't even gotten his feet untangled from his sleeves yet.

Elladan snickered and took a step, but his forward movement was quickly forgotten by the strong, slender hands that snatched his shoulders and the arm that snaked around his chest.

_Not again! _His mind cried out in despair and a rather undignified strangled yelp escaped from his throat, as he began to fight back, thinking how useless it was. His struggles ceased quickly though as a sharp object came to rest against his throat.

"That's quite enough!"

So frightened had Elladan been, it took nearly several heart beats before he realized that his attacker was speaking in Elvish. It was also some time before he realized that no dwarf would speak Elvish and no dwarf had arms so slender. Thus reaching his conclusion, albeit rather belatedly, he twisted away and faced the elf behind him.

Glorfindel stood calmly, watching with no little amusement the interesting shades of color flitting across Elladan's face.

The Elf sputtered for a moment, and his amazement doubled as half a dozen elves stepped from the shadows and flanked their leader. Anger and embarrassment quickly overrode fear, and he stepped forward, uncomfortably aware of his ragged appearance.

"What are you doing here, Glorfindel?"

The blonde Elf tilted his head as if Elladan was nothing more than an interesting curio. "Looking for you. When you did not return within the time frame of four days, we were compelled to come and search for you. Lord Elrond has expressed his wishes that we immediately form a search party if so much time has passed with no sign of you or your brother." He paused to consider something and then added: "Were Prince Legolas here, that wish would expand to him as well, and with a shorter time period."

Elladan scowled, not at all pleased to hear that his father thought so little of their skills at staying alive. But then, he remembered all the times that himself, his brother, or Legolas had limped home after a hunting trip. And he did have to admit that such things always seemed to go wrong if they spent more than three days outside the borders of Imladris, especially worse if the hunting itself had been lax and they sought to amuse themselves with various challenges that were more often then not, highly dangerous. He should be honored that Elrond trusted them being away for four days.

"I see," he said aloud. "I suppose I cannot blame him."

He stopped there, for Glorfindel was peering here and there amid the gloom. "Where is your brother?"

Elladan stifled a snigger, but just barely. He quickly related the string of events that had transpired to bring them together.

To Glorfindel's credit, the Balrog-slayer did not snicker at the image, and sent two of the elves that had accompanied him into the camp to fetch the wayward twin.

While they waited, the rest of them discussed the… 'oddness' of Elrond's behavior. Even Glorfindel, for all his wisdom and experience with the Elven Lord of Imladris, could not understand what had come over Elrond, or what had compelled him to leave his own sons tied up in a tent in the midst of a band of dwarves.

After more than ten minutes had passed they reached an agreement that whatever was troubling Elrond, it must be something monumentous. Immediately afterward, they reconsidered their diagnosis and decided that such things were better left alone for the time being (or until they could safely spy on the elf). No sooner had they reached this desicion then a mud-covered blur tore out of the forest and charged Elladan, knocking him to the ground in a spectacular flying tackle.

Glorfindel and the warriors started in surprise, reaching instinctively for the hilt of their weapons. But a few heartbeats later they realized that it was just Elrohir, howling incoherently as his muddy hands went for his brother's throat. It was fortunate that they suddenly recognized the blur for what it truly was as several of the soldiers had started forward, intent on protecting the son of Elrond from the mud-monster.

Instead, they sheathed their respective weapons and on Glorfindel's signal, they began to try and find any opening in the flailing fists that would allow them to separate the two.

The two soldiers Glorfindel had sent to fetch Elrohir emerged from the camp then, winded from their mad dash. Upon being questioned, they revealed that they had found the tent with little difficulty, it being the only one with madly twisting shadows and muffled elven curses emanating from it.

They had entered only to find one of their lordling charges furiously grappling with the knife hilt in his boot. Somehow, the two had mangaed to restrain their laughter, and had quickly set loose Elrohir.

Said twin immediately leaped to his feet, tore off the gag, and raced out of the tent, spitting mud as he went. It was all the soldiers could do to keep relative pace with the reckless Elf, and they were nearly spotted several times by passing dwarves. Also, and this last bit they related through choked sniggers, the charging lordling had tripped once, and had landed squarely in a newly formed mud puddle. The ensuing curses were probably best not repeated.

While they were relating the change of events, the other elves, Glorfindel included, tried to get a hold of the twins, who were furiously trying to throttle each other. The mud made it difficult to get ahold of Elrohir, and Elladan was quickly becoming filthy as well.

The balrog-slayer began to notice something odd, as the seconds wore on. One by one, the elves began to back off, until he was the only one left in the midst of the fray. Narrowly avoiding being punched in the skull by a wayward fist, he dodged backwards and approached his soldiers.

Imagine his surprise and annoyance upon overhearing their conversation:

"Nay, Elladan will win for sure! Look at that! And he has always been better at fighting than his brother! Three gold coins on Elladan!" (This last was added in a hushed whisper.)

Another elf, Flepel, shook his head vigorously. "I shall match that bet for Elrohir. Contrary to your_ false _beliefs, they are evenly matched. Neither has been able to best the other in a fist fight, not even when they were mere elflings. And were you ever able to get a proper hold on the younger? Elladan will have trouble with the mud as much as we did!"

And so it went, each elf putting their opinion, as well as their coins, on their favorite, not seeming to notice that a few Dwarves had drifted into their midst and were even placing their own bets.

Glorfindel stared. His elves (and the odd dwarf) were putting money on a fist fight between two elven lordlings! His mind boggled. But annoyance quickly overcame amazement, and he stalked away, intent on finding the reason why this large dwarven camp was sitting in front of the Mountains.

As the muffled curses and other sounds of the fight faded away, Glorfindel began to slow. He was coming up on the eastern edge of the camp, and he realized that his movements might attract unwanted attention. The camp was right along the mountains and the ground was beginning to slope alarmingly.

He padded forwards, the soles of his boots silently carrying him over the rough ground. And then, something odd began to happen: The ground took a sharp lurch up and over a mound of rocks and dirt, and then began to level out. Soon, the balrog-slayer found himself crossing flat ground.

His keen eyesight allowed him to spot the other elf just before they collided. Peering through the gloom Glorfindel recognized it as the lord of Imladris, Elrond himself.

Elrond whirled and saw Glorfindel several seconds later. But the balrog-slayer did not even notice. He was too busy staring at the incredibly large tunnel that had been carved into the mountainside.

Elrond leaped into Glorfindel's field of vision as soon as he noticed where the other Elf's gaze was locked and began hopping up and down, waving his arms madly. "Glorfindel! _Mellon-nin, _it is wonderful to see you! What are you doing here?"

The balrog-slayer craned his neck to get a better look at what lay behind the bouncing elf-lord. "Elrond... what is that?"

Elrond leaned back and forth in time with Glorfindel, trying to obstruct the blonde's view of the tunnel. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Are you well?"

Glorfindel gave Elrond a Look "What on Arda do you need a tunnel for?"

Elrond returned the Look with a ill-concieved blank stare. "Tunnel? What tunnel?" All the while, he kept waving his arms overhead, and leaping up and down.

No doubt, Glorfindel mused, the poor deranged elven lord thought he was doing a marvelous job of hiding the monstrous tunnel.

He reached out and snatched Elrond's arms, holding them close to the elven lord's sides. "Elrond," he said, very calmly considering the circumstances, "I want to know two things. One, I want to know why you saw it fit to tie up your own sons and leave them in a tent, and two, I want to know what that tunnel is for!" His voice rose, until he was nearly shouting.

Elrond blinked. "_Mellon-nin_," he replied, matching the blonde's earlier calm tone, "You need to do something about that breath of yours. It could fell an Oliphaunt."

Glorfindel, who had in fact rinsed his mouth with minted water just several hours before, began to retaliate, but stopped as he realized what the clever, if somewhat unhinged, elf lord was doing.

"My lord, such diversionary tactics will not work," he said calmly, folding his arms. "I want answers, Elrond... not degrading remarks on my personal hygiene."

Elrond, considering this, slowly stopped his bouncing. He gave a cursory glance about and leaned in close to Glorfindel. "Nothing shall come in between my birthday present and that wood-elf!"

Glorfindel understood almost instantly. Sighing, and hearing the continuing fight some distance behind him, he decided then and there that the entire Noldor family had gone insane. Rolling his eyes, he turned on heel and walked away: no way on Elbereth's stars was he getting into the middle of _this _one.

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**AN: **(yes, another one of these... sorry) Ahem.. anyways, thank you **Nelarun **and **rivendellelve **for reviewing last chappy!

Don't forget to review and tell us if it made you laugh, and always remember... Trust the toad!


	4. The Insane Royals

**Disclaimer: **Thou shalt not accuse us of claiming these characters as our own. We'll hunt you down with our trusty baseball bat if you do… We and lawyers do NOT get along.

**AN: **It's been too loooooong… I'm SORRY! Go ahead and read… After this long, I'm not stopping you!

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"Ada! Ada, you come out of there right this instant!"

Legolas rapped on the door with red and smarting knuckles. His father was being absolutely _unreasonable_!

A muffled voice was heard from the other side of the door, and Legolas paused, keen ears easily picking up the softened voice.

"Nothing is coming to get you, Ada. Your subjects are going to think you've gone mad. _I _think you have gone mad!"

Again came the muffled words. Legolas sighed and leaned against the door, absently smoothing out the wrinkles in his deep green robes. He would have rather been doing his duties as a warrior, comfortably clad in his green and brown tunic. Ever since his father had locked himself up though, Legolas had been forced to rule the kingdom in Thranduil's stead.

Ruling the kingdom, however, meant one had to wear unbearably itchy and fancy dress robes... all the time.

"Ada, I need help." Legolas said, trying to sound proud and failing. "Things are getting out of control. I don't know what to do with the prisoners that try to escape, I wasn't aware that the king is supposed to be consulted on what he wants for each and every meal, and I certainly wasn't paying enough attention in my classes to tell me how to deal with the bloody little hairy dwarves that keep trying to bargain for jewels!" He waited to see if this would have any effect and was surprised when even the mention of dwarves and jewels did not bring his father out of hiding.

"Ada, things are trying enough, and were so even before you decided to go through with this foolishness. The last thing Mirkwood needs right now is a king who _won't come out of the blasted broom closet_!"

A pause. Then, "Ada, I don't know what you are so worried about! The only things you have received from Elrond for your birthday have been nice calm, pleasant things such as rare wines and books. Why should he suddenly decide to wreak havoc on you for no reason?"

But the king would say no more.

Legolas was forced to give up. He spun away, green robes swishing softly, a look of annoyance stamped across his fair face.

Thranduil was being.. well, childish! It was not a term generally applied to the king of Mirkwood, but Legolas felt no qualms about applying it now.

His brief reign as surrogate king was beginning to wear on his nerves, and it had not even been two full days!

On the way back to the throne room, he was accosted by no less than three advisors wishing to know about the king's health. With a mental sigh, Legolas replied that the king was resting relatively comfortably. Yes, he was sure that his father was going to be fine. No, there was nothing they could do to help; he had it quite under control, thank you. No, he wasn't particularly fond of fish for dinner. Yes, he would go talk to the dwarves before they got antsy and declared war for not being treated with proper respect and dignity.

He entered the throne room and sat, managing to look calm and unruffled. The dwarves all began to talk at once, and they were soon embroiled in a heavy 'debate' over jewels.

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Legolas scowled. The leader of the dwarves, one Frold Axgirdle, simply did not seem to understand that Legolas was unwilling to do any trading whatsoever. He kept upping the price, all for a pair of emerald earrings and a matching pendant dating back to the Second Age.

The elf prince was sorely tempted to agree, even if it meant getting only a single burlap bag in return, if he could just get the little hairy beings to _go away!_

He had quickly discovered an upside to the long-sleeved robes however. The extra fabric was just long enough to cover his hands, therefore masking any compulsory strangling or rude gestures. If not for the length, Legolas was sure he would have been attacked more than once already.

It came as a great relief then, to learn that supper was ready. Skillfully keeping the irritation out of his voice and expression, he rose to leave. Only the fact that he did not want a war on his hands compelled him to invite the dwarves along.

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Legolas stared into space, trying to ignore the rough smacking and slurping sounds that emanated from the dwarves. Most dwarves, for all their faults, usually had table manners. However, for some reason this group seemed intent on paying him back for not trading anything for that emerald set. The sound set his nerves on edge and nearly got his teeth to grinding. How in the name of the Valar did one manage to slurp venison anyways?

With a long-suffering sigh, Legolas turned his attention to his own dinner; although he was no longer hungry he knew that it would give the dwarves great satisfaction to learn they had put the acting king off his appetite. He tried to ignore the pleading looks from his people as well.

He managed to endure the first course by imagining what would happen if he took his dinner knife and hacked off each of the dwarves' beards. The second was barely manageable, as his imagination deserted him until halfway through the course, at which time it came back with a vengeance and he found himself musing over whether or not a dwarf would consider being dyed pink, muzzled and hung upside down in night clothes cause to start a war.

But at the third, the constant 'smurping' and ever heightening bid for the emeralds had gotten to be too much.

He stood so suddenly his chair screeched and nearly toppled backwards. His eyes flashed in irritation and he looked so much like his father that the entire hall went still and quiet, waiting for the coming explosion.

They weren't disappointed.

"_Out! _You have exactly half of an hour to drag yourselves and all of your possessions out of my land! If I hear tell that you and your slurping, smacking selves are anywhere in the near vicinity after this, I'll have you thrown in the dungeons before you can say 'emerald'!"

One of the dwarves opened his mouth upon hearing this, and in a flash and swirl of fabric, Legolas was beside the unfortunate creature. A slim finger pointed viciously at the dwarf's nose and the dwarf went cross-eyed trying to pinpoint the exact location of the offending finger. "Not another word! I do not, now or ever, want to trade with you for anything! Keep your grubby little fingers away from my jewels!"

He finished with a rather dramatic sweep of his hand and gestured towards the door. When none of the dwarves seemed inclined to move, his hand made another, more... _unsavory _gesture. "I said _out!_"

The dwarves took one final look at the furious elf, whose face had become an alarming shade of red, and fled.

"Horrible little creatures!" Legolas hissed under his breath, and forced himself to relax. The tension left his body, and he calmly (if a little stiffly) sat back down and began to eat once more. The rest of the elves began to slowly come around; after all, they had seen more impressive fits of fury from their king. The fact the easy-going Legolas had lost his temper did not surprise any of them one bit though. He was Thranduil's son, after all.

The rest of the meal passed in blessed silence.

Legolas strode out of the hall more than an hour later, content that no annoying hairy beings were within at least a two miles radius, ready to talk some sense into his father.

But after thirty minutes of persuasion, ten minutes of threats and five minutes of banging his head repeatedly into a wall, Legolas was forced to admit defeat.

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The hallways were eerily silent, as if the people sensed Legolas and had dived for cover, or turned to stone, immobile so maybe they would not be seen and consequently lashed out for simply being there.

Legolas's mood, which had started to lift at the banishment of the Dwarves had floundered again. His Father was _not_ coming out and now on top of it he had a headache, a nagging persistent headache that reminded him of the drilling of the Dwarves. Not that he had ever heard the Dwarves dig for their greedy treasures, but all the same, it seemed a fair comparison.

_NO! NO!! NO DWARVES!!_ His mind screamed suddenly and started to rattle about, as if it were a desperate creature stuck in a cage it could not escape. _NO!!! LET ME OUT!!!_

Legolas groaned, clutching his head, nearly sinking to his knees. "Be quiet, be quiet. My head hurts as it is!"

The few people left in the halls, stared at him wildly and then began to run, as if trying to get away as fast as possible. Personally, Legolas could not blame them; the whole Palace was falling down on itself. And it was all Elrond's fault. He had no idea what the Lord of Rivendell had done, but it had sent his Father down into a swirling depth of chaos and madness.

He surely hoped that the twins were not a part of it, and if they were, Legolas was going to abandon them in the dungeons and let them find their own way out. It would only take them about a month, which he privately thought was perfect and not all that bad.

Realizing that the strange sound filling the halls was his own grinding teeth, Legolas took a deep breath and forcibly calmed himself. _Retain control, you will not go insane, you will not go insane._

A measure of calm falling over him, he reached out for his doorknob and swung it open. Inside his sitting room it was dark, the fireplace strangely absent of all traces of the coals that had been left to bank.

Instinctively Legolas reached for his sword and then realized with a deep sense of foreboding he was weaponless. "Hello?" he called out. As he had feared it was silent and there was no response.

Tentatively he stretched out a foot.

He was about to set it down again when it touched something. Something soft and furry. (Though how he could tell with his shoes on, it is unknown, perhaps it was just his imagination firing into overdrive).

"_SQUIRREL!!_**" **Legolas screamed, his voice reaching pitches that even a girl would never dream acquiring.

Turning on heel, and still screaming high enough to having people cowering, rushed down the hall. Waving his arms, his robes flapping, his hair snarling and snagging on his eyes and momentarily blinding him.

"We're under attack! We're under attack! The Squirrels have massed against us!"

By this time the halls were abandoned despite the early hours and Legolas's call for help went unheard or unheeded. He was forced to make a change to his shout.

"Every man for himself! Take cover! The Squirrels! The Squirrels! Every man for himself!"

If he had been himself he might have realized that he was weaponless and if there _had_ been squirrels he would have been tripping him. Alas, Legolas's mind, or rather his sanity had fled, and the tortures of the day began to catch up to him.

However, and unfortunately, his guards had noticed this abnormal and rather frightening lapse of conscious and had banded together to make sure their Prince stayed put. Who knew what damage he would cause alone if he escaped?

Legolas had no ideas as to their plans, so when he ran past the gaping front doors screaming, "_Freedom!_" he could not quite grasp the situation when he found himself on the floor, eating the dirt, and pinned by his own guards.

For a moment, he lay there, silent, and then slowly his mind caught up to him, and the wheels began to turn again. "Traitors! You traitors! You have banded with the squirrels! How dare you!"

"Squirrels?" a dry voice asked. "Excuse me Prince, but there…"

"Yes Squirrels!" Legolas panted trying to roll onto his back, but was pinned. He started to struggle and was held more tightly. "Don't deny it! You know! You know! You staged the…." He trailed off as a gag was forced between his teeth, cutting off his words.

"You can't do that! That's the Prince!"

"Just shut up! Lets get him to the closet, and there he can plot his madness with Thranduil."

"I just hope this passes," a third voice commented dryly.

Still struggling Legolas was hauled to his feet. His eyes rolled as he looked at his once faithful guards. "No! Not the beginning of the Squirrel Regime!!!" The words came out a lot more mangled then he had intended.

A guard behind him, frustrated and unable to handle the stress, reached out and whacked the Prince with the pommel of his sword.

As Legolas slumped forward he feigned an innocent look and shrugged. "Why not, we've already all gone mad."

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**AN: **And there you have it. Not bad eh? The whole bit about the squirrels was Alenor's idea. Poor Legolas… we all knew it would happen one day. Pressure can do a lot to a person! Or elf, as the case may be.

Hope everyone who reviewed (**Nelarun, Aimme, rivendellelve, Miriel Silvrenniel, **and **LovewithWars**… We love you!) hasn't forgotten about us. It's all my (Rebell's) fault. I'm such a lazy bum.


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